Of Crystal Ducks and Cinnamon Hair
by viciousboar
Summary: Carol leaned forward in her seat and lowered her voice, "Do you know who this Rachel is?" / college fic / rossrachel, monicachandler
1. Chapter 1

**A/N -** don't know why, but I'm on a FRIENDS high this week. i've started two different stories (which I really shouldn't be doing right now), and am planted in front of the tv watching reruns.

this kinda just popped in my head. did Carol ever know about Rachel while she was with Ross? was she ever worried about it?

* * *

"Hey, who're you staring at?"

Chandler turns to find his roommate's girlfriend standing in front of his table. He breaks his gaze from across the room as the blonde slides into the seat across from him.

"Er... what?" he pretends not to know what she's talking about.

A raging February college party, and _Faith _by George Michael was blaring in the background. Overly bright lights flashed, tipsy girls danced senselessly, and plastic cups were scattered across the room.

Carol follows his gaze, only to find a tall, dark brunette chatting up another girl, a slim, raven-haired beauty.

"Who's Monica's friend over there?"

Chandler blinked. "Oh... yeah. That, um... that's who I was staring at."

"Nice," Carol commended, and joined Chandler in ogling the pair for a moment.

Chandler played on the notion he was actually staring at Monica's friend. "Yeah, maybe if lightning strikes her, she'll agree to go out with me, and we can double date."

Carol grinned at his self-deprecating wisecrack.

"Hey, great lacrosse game, by the way!" Chandler vaguely remembered Ross bragging to him about his girlfriend's Friday night win.

"Actually, it was golf. But, thanks anyways."

Chandler shrugged. "Sorry." He knew Carol was a cool girl; he may have asked her out himself if Ross hadn't gotten there first. She was a charmingly likeable girl, never overly-bitchy or rude, and she seemed to fit in with Ross and Chandler's small coterie of friends rather well.

Carol tucks a long strand of hair behind her ear, and said something that Chandler couldn't make out because a girl had just passed out and her friend was making quite a commotion.

"I actually wanted to ask you something!" she raised her voice in an effort to be heard.

"Yeah?" Chandler leaned forward and rolled up his sleeves. "Hit me."

The music changed; a sophomore in the corner was toying with the stereo controls, and a new song filled the room. U2's _With or Without You_.

Carol continued. "Do you know who this... _Rachel_ is?"

"Rachel... Nichols?"

"Never mind. I - just... Ross seems to be infatuated with some girl named Rachel, that I don't even know. I'm kinda worried."

Chandler hesitated. Yes, he did recall the perky high schooler he made out with at a college party. The rich girl who was going to be hungover during her SATs, who was Monica's best friend, who his college roommate and best friend was totally head over heels in love with (and no, he wasn't planning on telling Ross about what happened at the party, _ever_).

He himself wasn't sure where Ross was; he knew he was in love with Rachel (keyword, _was_), but where Ross was currently standing on his feelings, Chandler had no idea.

Of course, Ross did have serious feelings for Rachel at for the longest time; if the constant pining in their dorm during the first month of the semester wasn't so glaringly obvious enough, he witnessed him drool over her at two years ago at Thanksgiving as well.

But, ever since Ross had started seeing Carol, the obsession had started to lessen. No more sickeningly mopey songs did Ross write, and never again did he prattle on about how beautiful Rachel's 'soft, cinnamon hair' looked like.

Chandler settled with a simple question. "Why?"

"Well, he happens to mention her, all the time."

Chandler gasped mockingly, though Ross mentioning Rachel often wasn't really a shock. Just because he stopped talking about her hair, doesn't mean he stopped talking about her at all. "That rat bastard. Do you want me to beat him up?"

Carol swatted his arm.

"I wouldn't mind it, that much. It's just... he always goes on about how sweet she was, how pretty she was at prom, and I'm pretty sure that song he wrote, 'Emotional Knapsack' or whatever, was about her."

Chandler frowned. From what he made of Rachel during their first encounter, she was a pretty spoilt girl; who knows, though? Just because he didn't detect sweet, didn't mean she wasn't. Ross had known her since the ninth grade, Chandler had known her since last Thanksgiving.

And pretty? He supposed, to an extent. She had nice hair, glowing eyes, and a really great body; the drawback was really just her nose.

He refrained from disclosing to Carol that 'Emotional Knapsack' really was about Rachel.

"Hey, hey, so? Ross talks about you _all_ the time," Chandler tried to sway her the best he could.

"Well, it's not just that. Yesterday, we were... fooling around," she lowered her voice, "and he _almost_ said her name."

"Yeah, it's a problem," he nods, his flock of seagulls haircut bobbing up and down. "Sometimes, he just forgets the last part of people's names. Last week, he called me 'Chan'. I'm thinking of taking him to a doctor."

Carol dumped her face in her hands, frustrated. "Chandler, can you please be serious?"

He shrugged submissively. "Sure."

"I don't want to be that jealous girlfriend," she continued, "but should I be worried?"

Chandler reached out for her hand, and he held it firmly on the table.

"You have nothing to worry about," he soothed her. "She's Monica's friend, he had a crush on her for a bit before, but he got over it once he met you. Trust me."

Carol sighed despondently. "How does that explain him moaning "_Rach" _while we were making out?"

"Well," Chandler frowned, trying to save his friend from this sinking ship. "Maybe, he was thinking of her while you two were together, because," he motioned with his hands awkwardly, "he didn't want to get... too _excited_. I can't tell you how many times-"

He stopped abruptly, mid-sentence, as Carol flashed him a _too-much-information_ look. "You don't need to know that."

"Maybe I should ask him," Carol debated.

"Ask me what?" a tall, jacketed figure loomed in front of their booth.

"Hey, Ross!" Chandler jumped up to greet his roommate warmly, eager to get the topic as far away from his bedroom endeavors as possible.

Carol stood up, a worried hand on her hip and a concerned expression on her face.

"Did you get drinks?" she asked her boyfriend, who stood before them with empty hands.

"Huh?" Ross looked confused for a moment, then shook his head. "No, but I have something for you!"

He fished a small, wrapped-up present from his pocket.

"Here," he presented to her proudly.

She blossomed a grateful smile. "What's this?"

"Open it," Ross looked like a puppy dog, intent on pleasing Carol.

Carol's long fingers tore the paper apart, and in it, she found a small crystal statuette of a duck.

"Oh - oh, God!" Carol stared in shock at the present. "I can't believe you, Ross, how did you find this?"

"Do you like it?" an unsure look crept up upon his face.

"Do I like it?" she shrieked with glee. "Oh my God, I _love_ you!"

She threw her arms around her and attacked his lips with hers, all thoughts of 'Rachel' cast aside.

Monica bade her friend a goodbye, and approached the table and the blisteringly happy couple.

"What's going on?" she asked Chandler, as Carol and Ross were a bit preoccupied.

"We're going bridesmaid dress shopping!" Chandler cried sarcastically. "Oh, and Ross is fathering Carol's child."

"_What_?" Monica cried. She jerked an unhappy thumb at Carol. "She's pregnant?"

Ross and Carol broke apart, and Ross looked to Carol for confirmation.

"No," Carol said breathlessly. "But, remember last year, the three of us went shopping, and I was saying how my late grandmother had one of these?" she picked up the statuette and handed it to Monica.

Monica gasped, evidently impressed too. "God, that was like... seven months ago. You guys weren't even dating then!"

Chandler rolled his eyes. So, Ross remembered, he was so freaking in love with his girlfriend that it gave him superhuman memory. Big whoop.

"Okay, if you jump Ross too, I'm leaving," he told Monica.

She smirked at him; just having gotten used to his quips, she could actually manage to hang around Chandler and forget about their first meeting.

Carol stood up on her toes to reach her boyfriend's ear. She whispered something, and his eyes sprang open with shock. He nodded, she grabbed his hand, and dragged him off to her dorm room.

"You wanna go somewhere else?" Monica asked Chandler.

"Sure," Chandler sighed. "So, er - how's Rachel doing?"

"I dunno, you might have to ask her yourself," Monica joked bitterly. "I don't see her much these days."

She stopped him halfway down the hall. "Why? You're not in love with her too, are you?"

Chandler's eyes widened. Monica didn't know... did she?

"No!" he cried. "Why, who else is in love with her?"

Monica frowned. "Davis Talbert," she admitted. "My first college boyfriend, and it turned out he was after her."

Chandler breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he'd be the only one to know of Ross' long-time, yearning crush on Rachel.

He decided to console a depressed-looking Monica. "Hey, it's fine. One day the right guy'll show up," he patted her shoulder.

Monica groaned.

"Sure, and my brother _isn't_ getting laid right now!"

* * *

**A/N - **Monica, you silly goose.

Review?


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** - Ba-dum da. Chapter 2 :)

I'm not sure whether I want to incorporate Phoebe and Joey into the story; they really don't fit in anywhere, unless I purposely twist things around.

anyways, thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and story/author-alerted me :) you guys are great! special thanks to Cynthia Salander, my fellow hard-core Mondler shipper.

Feel FREE to point out any flaws in plot, grammar/spelling (dear God, I hope not) errors, or any simple typos I may have missed. Staring at the computer screen for a couple hours does something to your brain.

Disclaimer - I don't own FRIENDS, nor their characters (I wish).

* * *

Monica strode down the crowded hallway, a polished coffee tumbler in hand.

She re-checked her watch. Only eleven more minutes to get to class.

Increasing her pace, Monica remained oblivious to the resulting stares from passer-bys as she nearly ran down two more halls.

Damn, why did the previous Culinary Arts building have to grow mold? She shuddered to think about it, it was disgusting. Not only that, but the new classrooms designated for the training, soon-to-be cooks and chefs, but they now had to travel all the way across campus to get to class.

She pulled her map out of her purse, then looked up at the dull gray building in front of her. She was pretty sure the new classrooms were behind this building.

Monica entered the building, dashed around the corner, and hastened her pace as she hurtled down the hallway. She sprinting towards the back exit of the door; she could not be late. What would become of her reputation?

Unfortunately, the door was pushed open by another hurrying student as Monica sprinted towards it. Unable to stop herself mid-sprint, she collided, hard, with the edge of the door.

Knocked to the cold, tiled floor, Monica groaned and felt her forehead. Yep, and there it was; a bump she could already fell swelling on her head.

"Monica?" a voice questioned in possible recognition.

No '_I'm sorry_!', no '_are you alright_?'? Did this person have any decency? Monica looked up, not sure what to expect.

Sitting in front of her, with a thin notebook and gaudy purse, was Rachel Green.

"Rachel!" Monica had to put in some effort in order to come off as cheerful. "How're you?"

Not that she cared. Rachel hardly threw a glance her way after the first few months of college; not to mention, after the Davis-incident, neither girl had made a real effort to keep in touch. Not that Rachel was directly mean or rude to her, it was just that she'd evolved into someone Monica neither stand nor respect. Each girl had their own group of friends now, and despite her long history with Rachel, she had already decided it was for the best.

But she supposed she could afford to be polite for a few more seconds before she had to get up and go.

Rachel frowned, readjusting her purse strap. "Not good. There's no parking near the Psychology building!" she complained and sighed dramatically.

Rachel did not bother to offer her hand, and Monica sat, still sprawled below her on the floor. She lingered on the ground for a few more seconds in pain.

"I see." Monica pulled herself off the ground as well, picking up her map as she went.

"So, how's cooking class?"

"Culinary Arts?" Monica hated the term 'cooking class'; it just sounded so unofficial. "It's alright."

Rachel tilted her head to the side, appearing concerned. "How're you doing?" she asked, patting Monica's shoulder. Monica knew what subject Rachel was trying to breach - the one her mother _always_ condescendingly picked on her with - and she didn't want to detail her perky acquaintance with the single life she'd been living for the past few months while she nodded in exaggerated sympathy.

"Good, good. Yeah, I'm doing _great_," she emphasized, ignoring the growing uncomfortable air. At least she made it sound like her love life wasn't completely empty.

"Good," Rachel beamed at her, not knowing what else to say.

Monica awkwardly pursed her lips.

But, before she made to leave, she _had_ to know. "How's Davis?"

Rachel's eyebrows shot up in polite confusion.

"Who?"

"Davis Talbert?" Monica elaborated. Surely, surely, Rachel remembered. If she didn't, she has just reached a whole new level of low, in Monica's opinion. "Tall kid, brunette hair, green ey-"

"Oh!" Rachel nodded, finally recognizing the name. "Oh, him. Yeah, we broke up," she pouted, brushing a careless hand through her hair.

Monica put on a concerned face as she feigned disappointment and empathy for her friend. "Ooooh, I'm sorry."

Rachel tucked a stand of copper hair behind her ear. "Yeah, well, my parents are setting me up with a family friend on Thursday."

"Good," the dark-haired girl patted her arm supportively, although she really didn't care. All she knew was she was going to be _late_.

Rachel nodded enthusiastically. "Barney... Farber, something."

"Good," Monica repeated, for lack of a better word.

She tried to step around Rachel to leave, because really, a "goodbye" would make things even more awkward, but Rachel caught her shoulder.

"Mon," she said, using Monica's nickname for close friends and family, "promise we'll grab lunch sometime? You and I can catch up. You can invite Ron, too!"

"You mean Ross?" Monica asked dryly.

"No," Rachel shook her head, as though Monica was being playfully silly with her, "I meant your brother!"

"I _know_."

Rachel paused. "Oh, sorry!" she grimaced. "I'm so bad with names, you know!" she waved a hand. "Anyways, bye!"

Monica gave a short wave to her retreating friend and sighed. How was she ever friends with _that_, she didn't know.

She brought her wrist up to check, once more.

Five minutes to go.

* * *

"God, and then she didn't even remember who Davis was!" Monica explained to Chandler, who lay slack-jawed and motionless on his dorm bed.

"Mon, don't you have anyone else to bore with this girl stuff?"

Monica turned slowly to glare at him. "Are you even listening?"

"Yeah, of course I am," he sat up slowly, struggling against his own overpowering lethargy, "but I'm not one to get all this girl stuff."

Monica stared at him disbelievingly.

"I mean, what? Is it that I have some sort of quality, or something, that makes girls think I'm the one to go to with their problems?"

Monica frowned. "I swear, you'll never get married."

He shrugged; as a free-of-commitment man, he wasn't bothered by the remark. "Hey, if this Davis guy isn't seeing Rachel... should I be?" he joked, trying to ease Monica up.

She chucked a pillow at his head as he leisurely lay back down. Even though they were friends, didn't mean he couldn't be an ass sometimes. He didn't even flinch as the pillow hit him, instead letting in rest on his face.

Underneath the droopy pillow, he rolled his eyes. Guess he'd have to work on how to charm a woman; jokes just wouldn't do it anymore.

"Say what you want, Mon," Chandler sang, his voice muffled from beneath the pillow, "but she doesn't seem that bad. I think you shoulder at least have lunch with her."

A door opened and closed shut behind them.

"Have lunch with who?" Ross asked, entering the room and throwing his jacket on his bed. Chandler removed the pillow from his head, only to find his roommate wearing a jaw-splitting grin on his face.

"Uh, Mom," Monica lied quickly. She didn't feel like repeating the story.

""You're having lunch with Mom?" Ross asked, confused at the out-of-character Monica. "Why?"

"Uh, just because," Monica lied. Anyways, by the way he had happy danced into the room, she could tell he so desperately wanted to spill to Chandler the details of his evening with Carol, alone.

And they both complained that _she_ was the girly one.

She rolled her eyes and slowly pulled herself off the bed.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow," she smiled warily at both boys. "Goodnight!"

Ross waited until the door had slammed shut, spun around, and cried, "God, tonight was amazing!"

Chandler removed the pillow from his face, flinging it back to its rightful bed. "And you had to wait for Monica to leave to say that?"

"No, well -" Ross paused for a moment, "she's amazing. Just amazing."

"Yeah, I'm sure the fact that you got her a crystal duck drawn straight from memory lane gets you laid twenty-four seven."

Ross shrugged sheepishly. "Carol also asked me something today."

"If the sky was blue?"

Ross picked up the same pillow that Monica had used and pitched it at his roommate's head.

"Ow," Chandler murmured sarcastically.

"She asked me to meet her parents for Valentine's Day," Ross said excitedly.

Chandler smiled; he was sincerely happy for his two friends, and how far they'd made it in their relationship. "Nice, man. The crystal duck must've done wonders for you."

Ross nodded.

"I'm happy for you."

The wide grin on Ross's face still hadn't left, and was now starting to freak Chandler out a bit.

"But, if you keep smiling like Charles Adrian Wettach, I may have to petition for a new roommate."

The smile from Ross' face fell. He cleared his throat - a habitual quirk Chandler had immediately noticed of Ross the first time they had met - and continued.

"Just... if Monica asks, I'm staying with you, alright?"

Chandler's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why?"

"Because," Ross began, "Mom's been bugging her about boyfriend ever since I got together with Carol. Spending Valentine's Day with her parents isn't going to help."

Chandler nodded in understanding. "Sure thing, man."

Ross smiled in appreciation.

"So, anyways, last night with Carol, she-" Ross trailed off into a very-detailed (to the point, Chandler's sure that Carol wouldn't appreciate) story of his night with Carol.

He had to take notes from this man.

He _knew_ how to get on a girl's good side.

* * *

**A/N - **Oh, Ross. I want to jump into the TV screen and warn you not to marry Carol. And say Emily's name right. And take it easy with the drinks in Vegas. How can you not feel bad for the guy?

Reviews make me smile :)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N - **Wow, thank you guys so much for the feedback!

Boris - thanks, I will include Phoebe and Joey soon. Cynthia - thank you so much for your support (especially the double review! :)). Winston - eh, you make a good point! Guest - yes, eventually it'll spiral into Ross and Rachel, don't worry. anon - thanks :) made me smile. Gabby - thank you, you're review _did_ make me happy. RachelGeller - thank you (i love your username!) very much! and yes, you may have Ross :)

Anyways, this chapter isn't my favorite; it took me a while, and I'm still not one hundred percent satisfied. But, it is a Monica-centric one, and I really hope you enjoy.

* * *

This was really not Monica's day.

* * *

"What?" Monica cried, taken aback completely.

Her _very_ dependable roommate had just informed her of her last minute departure, leaving Monica alone in her dorm, _again_.

"I'm sorry," Elena shrugged, gathering the rest of her shirts and tossing them carelessly into her suitcase. "My mom's sick and I need to go back and take care of her."

Monica closed her eyes, the disappointment and shock still overwhelming. This was her third roommate this year; that had to be some kind of record. As much as she felt sorry for her roommate's family situation, she couldn't help but wallow in a little self-pity.

"And you're telling me this now? Right as you're leaving?"

"I'm not done!" Elena defended herself, motioning to her last drawer filled with the remainder of her clothes.

Monica's eyes filled with bitter dismay.

"Trust me, I'm not happy about this either," Elena said, "you're a great roommate. But my dad begged and begged and begged until I gave in."

Monica bit her tongue. It was selfish to expect Elena to stay, she told herself. It was selfish and completely inconsiderate to even ask her to think about staying. She was a terrible person to even feel bad for herself.

"My brother's going back as well," Elena explained, flinging an old pair of pants into the growing pile of luggage.

Monica winced as she watched each piece of clothing being absentmindedly slung. Her fingers itched to take each piece carefully, fold each one so that they wouldn't wrinkle.

"Well," Monica sighed deeply, "I'm sorry about your mom," she said contritely. "Have fun in North Carolina."

"Thanks," Elena zipped up her messy suitcase, and set it on the floor. "There. Done."

Monica wanted to point out that _no_, she was not done. All she had done was amass a disorganized heap of clothing into her luggage. But, this was goodbye, and there was no point into ruining it with a complete Monica moment.

"Bye, Elena."

Elena didn't look back. "Bye, Monica."

* * *

Monica wandered glumly into the dorm lounge, in a terrible mood already. She brightened as she saw Carol curled with a notebook up on an empty loveseat in the corner of the room.

"Hey," she joined her, "What're you doing?"

Carol groaned. "Making a list of things for Ross to know."

"Weren't finals three weeks ago?"

Carol shook her head. "Oh no, see, Ross is meeting my parents this weekend."

Monica's eyebrows sprung up in shock. "Wow," she commented, trying to act delightedly surprised. "Big step."

This depressed her even more. First, her roommate left (abandoned) her, and now her brother would be gone for Valentine's Day.

Carol frowned. "He didn't tell you?"

Monica shrugged nonchalantly, as though the notion didn't bother her. "Nope. Guess he wanted to tell me later," she brushed it off.

Carol took Monica's indifferent response as a relief. "Oh, okay."

Inside, Monica was torn up to shreds. Her geeky older brother had a girlfriend, a date, just someone special to be with on Valentine's Day. And where would she be? Alone, in her dorm - because she was single. She didn't even have a roommate to cry along with.

Carol scribbled down another note. "Ross needs to know a little about Judd Nelson. My mom's in love with him."

"Oh, I love him," Monica deadpanned, but Carol didn't hear her.

"Anyways, guess what?" Carol grinned at her.

"What?"

"Ross told me he _loved_ me this morning."

Shock hit Monica over the head with a frying pan.

"Wow," she said softly. "Wow!" she exclaimed even louder, for the sake of Carol. "I - wow, congratulations!"

_Alone_, the word rang loud and clear in Monica's head, as Carol carried on about the different things her parents expected out of Ross, and whether or not he'd fulfill them. _Single and alone_.

* * *

Monica reread the words for the umpteenth time, trying to take them in. She couldn't focus, and though she knew it was a thrilling book, she was only staring at the pages blankly.

She was sitting at her favorite café, waiting for Ross to return from the bathroom - seated, cross-legged on a green couch, she sat and waited for him to return.

She didn't want to look she wasn't doing anything, so she had brought her book along - and for a good reason. Her brother took way to long in the restroom. Chandler had even penned him the nickname, "_Lingers in the Bathroom._"

A hand tapped her shoulder, and she turned around immediately, glad for the distraction.

For the second time that week, Rachel Green's smiling face looked down at her.

"Hey, Monica!" she said.

"Hi, Rachel," Monica smiled at her in a half-hearted effort to make a perfunctory greeting.

Why, why did she have to keep running into this girl? She was pretty sure the run of their friendship had ended after high school graduation; meeting up each other now just seemed fruitless.

"How've you been?"

"I'm great," Monica lied. "How are you?"

Rachel beamed. "Wonderful," she gushed perkily, "I'm meeting Barry again tomorrow!"

Rachel obviously expected an ebullient response, the girly, giggly kind that she and Monica had shared in middle and high school together. She expected a million different, excited questions shot at her at once – 'how was it?', 'is he hot?', 'what does he do?', 'did you guys… you know?'

However, Monica just gave a deferential smirk and said, "Cool."

Rachel stood there for a moment in astonishment, incredulous at the nonchalant response.

"Hey, Monica, who's your friend?" Ross approached the two girls.

Rachel turned around, and Ross' eyes widened with joy and amazement.

"Rachel Green?" he asked, his entire face brightening.

Rachel gave a questioning glance at Monica, who confirmed with a swift nod. "Ross Geller?"

"Hi," Ross embraced her enthusiastically, "how've you been?"

"Great," Rachel beamed, glad to be talking to someone a little more perky than Monica.

"Gosh, I haven't seen you since last Thanksgiving!" Ross recalled.

"Yeah, are you still with that girl… uh, Karen?"

"Carol," Ross corrected. "Yeah, I am. How about you?"

Monica felt a little left out of the conversation. She supposed it was her fault, since she had been acting pretty distant towards Rachel, but Ross could at least include her. They acted as if _they_ were the long-time friends who had just met up, not Monica and Rachel. Monica just coolly picked up her neglected book and pretended to continue reading.

"Well, I've just started seeing this guy, Barry," Rachel gushed.

"Oh," Ross said simply, and for a second, Monica swore his face fell. He continued, "Isn't college great?"

"Yes," Rachel squealed. "Oh, we should catch up! I know this really cute Japanese restaurant, wanna come?"

Ross nodded gladly, then looked to Monica for permission.

"May I?" he gestured to Rachel, who was fishing through her purse.

He might as well, seeing as Ross and Rachel had been best friends since the sixth grade. No, wait a minute - that _wasn't_ him.

Monica didn't want to make a scene, however. She shrugged. "Go for it."

She watched over the top of her book as her brother's curly, black cut and Rachel's cinnamon hair disappear out the door.

* * *

Dialing her home number, Monica nestled her cell phone between her neck and ear as she sat down and prepared for the worst.

"Hello?" her mother answered. "Ross?"

"No," Monica said, "it's Monica."

Her mother was not all that sad to see her only daughter and youngest child head off to college. In fact, a few days after Monica's departure, her room had transformed completely – into a gym. However, Judy insisted that Monica check in once a week, just to let her know how she was doing and how college life was. That, in the mother's language, translated into 'do you have a boyfriend and are you even going to get married?'

"Oh," a simple word, yet powerfully condescending.

"How're you?" Monica asked, determined to steer the conversation above patronizing remarks.

"Good, dear. Did you know Ross is visiting Carol for Valentine's Day?"

"I did," Monica confirmed, growing weary at the reminder.

"I don't suppose you have any plans this weekend," Judy remarked. "Do you mind coming down here, dear? Samantha Heslin's daughter is going to fat camp, she wanted to ask you some questions."

"Sure," she said grudgingly.

Monica grinded her teeth and fisted the bed sheets. Her mother said the word 'dear', as though it made up for all the scornful comments.

"Actually, I _do_ have plans," she fibbed, seething with indignation at her mother's assumption.

"You do?" her mother's voice sounded incredulous.

"Yes," Monica continued, "with… a guy," she slapped herself on the head. "Uh…we've been dating for a while."

"You have a boyfriend?" Judy remained skeptical. "Who is it?"

"A guy, I met him at a party a month ago," Monica sidestepped handing out specific names. "I have to go, I'm meeting him in ten minutes," She hung up quickly, before her mother could further interrogate the identity of this mystery man.

And now, she needed to keep up the charade of a fake boyfriend. _Wonderful_.

* * *

Monica searched through Elena's empty drawers, figuring she had a little extra space to herself now.

Each one had a distinct odor, she noticed, as she scrubbed each with some paper towels and a bottle of Lysol.

She opened the last one, and lying in the bottom was a cell phone.

Monica picked it up curiously; it must be Elena's, she kept her cell phone safe and sound.

See, this is why organization is a _must_.

Monica rushed to her nightstand, plucked up her address book (which all her roommates had endlessly mocked), and flipped to 'E' to find 'Elena Harding.'

She dialed her home number, and set the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she yanked off her rubber gloves and put away the cleaning supplies.

"What do you want?" a gruff voice answered on the second ring.

"Ah, is Elena there?" Monica asked politely. She figured she must be home by now; Connecticut was only a handful of hours away by drive.

"What the hell are you talking about, 'Lena?" the voice asked rudely.

"No," Monica corrected, "this is Monica. I'm Elena's old roommate. I was wondering if Elena reached home yet, she forgot her phone here?"

The gruff voice snorted. "Elena's not home. You must be the roommate she moved out on."

Monica's heart dropped; she dared not believe the voice.

"What?" her own voice wavered in disbelief as she tried to confirm the horror.

"Elena told us she was moving out on her roommate 'cause she was so unbearable," the person guffawed, obviously not caring how Monica felt.

Monica's heart sank, all the way to the bottom. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

The person continued. "She told you she went back home? Priceless."

Monica didn't need this. Elena's relative wasn't planning on ending their laugh festival anytime soon, so she hung up the phone miserably and lay on her bed as tears prickled beneath her eyelids.

You'd think by now she was inured to the rejection.

* * *

Chandler groaned into his pillow. Didn't Ross have a fucking key? And why was he knocking so damn loudly?

In fact, why would he come back anyways? He had told Carol he loved her this morning, he shouldn't be returning anytime soon.

Half-asleep, he drowsily unlocked the door and it swung open.

"Dammit, Ross, I-"

On the other side of the threshold, stood a depressed-looking Monica.

Her face was stained with tear tracks and she had tied her hair into a messy bun. She was still wearing her daytime clothes, despite it being 2 A.M. in the morning, and she stood there almost as if she had wandered into the building by accident.

All his annoyance and sleepiness had vanished when he had seen the disheartening look on Monica's face.

"Are you alright?" He opened his arms out; she seemed in desperate need of a comforting hug.

She shook her head 'no', on the verge of crying again.

Chandler knew something had to be terribly wrong. In the two years he had known her, he had learned that Monica _rarely _cried. In fact, Monica had never let anyone see her cry. She wasn't sobbing at the moment, but the fact that she _hadn't_ erased any signals that she had been was a warning red flag. She liked to be tough and strong, and the fact that she had come to him in tears meant that something horrible had happened.

"Is Ross here?" Monica asked as she pulls away.

"No, he's spending the night with Carol. I saw him leave with a bottle of fudge and a packet of marshmallows in hand," he joked.

Monica's face, if possible, looked even gloomier at this.

"What's wrong, Mon?"

She rubbed her forehead. "Can I stay here, for a bit?"

Chandler nodded, taking her hand and leading her to his bunk.

"What's wrong?" he asked; he was ready to listen, despite the fatigue.

"Well, Elena moved out, because apparently I make the worst roommate ever. My mother's been bugging me about being single. My dorky brother is practically married to his girlfriend, and my oldest friend gets along better with Ross than with me." Monica listed off.

"I'm sorry," Chandler whispered, and slung his arm around her. He wasn't exactly sure what to do with all that information, but he could tell she'd had a crappy day.

"I mean, am I really so bad? That hard to be with? I'm just going to end up alone, aren't I?" Monica rambled on dolefully.

Chandler frowned. To him, that was certainly not true. Monica was gorgeous, smart, and was already at that stage of commitment he wasn't sure he'd ever quite reach.

"Why do you think that? Because you're roommate moved out? So, what? Tons of other people think you're great. _I _think you're great."

At this, Monica felt a little guilty. She had been bursting with problems lately, and so far, the only person she had ranted to was Chandler. He was a patient listener, save his occasional quips, and he was the only one she depended on to be there for her in the past few months. He didn't always know what to say, but he listened.

Today, the weight of the world was bearing down on her shoulders alone, and she knew the only person there to hear her out would be Chandler.

"Thanks," she said. He spread out his arms again and she fell into them readily.

His hands were placed gently on her hips and she wrapped her arms around his neck. They sat there in silence for a few moments, basking in the warmth.

"Trust me, you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever met."

Maybe it was the dimly lit room and the bed that was right next to them. Maybe it was that when he hugged her, she could hear his pounding heart. Maybe it was her roommate's departure, apparently because she made an awful roommate. Her mother, ragging on her until she lied about a non-existent boyfriend. Ross and Carol, happy as could be. Whatever it was, Monica was happy to pursue the feeling and leave all depressing thoughts behind.

When they broke apart, Monica hovered near his face, staring into his cerulean eyes earnestly.

It wasn't until her head hit his pillow and Chandler's pajama top is unbuttoned halfway does Chandler realize what they're doing. He parts his lips from hers, but Monica continues trailing kisses along his jawline.

Chandler tries to sort out his thoughts, answering his own questions in the process.

"Woah, woah, what's going on? You and I are making out?" his breath is raggedy and his willpower is fading, especially as she moves to his neck and sucks on the bit of skin there. "We don't do this."

She whispers against his throat as her fingers undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt and she traces shapes up and down his torso. "I need this, Chandler." Her hand moves lower and lower, down to the danger zone.

He himself didn't know what he was doing. He was losing all coherent thoughts as she began unbuttoning her own shirt; this was everything he'd wanted. A horny college chick, a possible one-night stand with no strings attached? Every guy's dream, floating right there in front of him. Any other college dude would gladly go along.

But he couldn't take advantage of Monica Geller, of all people. He had two years of friendship with this girl _and_ she was Ross's sister _and_ oh, God, how could he face either of them in the morning if he did this?

He sits up, shirt halfway off his shoulders, and looks her in the eye before she can unclasp her bra. "Monica," he says, "you're my best friend's sister."

"So?" she attempts to kiss him again, but he moves away.

"Monica, look," he combs a hand through his unruly hair, "you're upset. I'm sorry, I just don't think this is all that good of an idea."

"Well, we won't know that until we do it, will we?" Monica counters, approaching him once more.

"Monica," he tries again, "You're vulnerable right now. If you and I were to... do this," he motioned between them, "I wouldn't want it to happen like this."

Monica sits up too, finally seeing where he's going.

"Chandler," she says, "you don't get it. I _need_ this. I hate this, I hate myself for being single and alone, and I just-" she looks like she's about to start crying again. She's never felt more alone in her life than she does today, and he just doesn't understand, she _needs_ this. She can't handle another rejection.

"I'm sorry, I just don't think this is a good idea."

"I'm giving you the advantage, enjoy!" Monica begs. "Just this once."

"Monica," he says gently, stopping her from yanking off her top, "Mon, I'm not doing this with you."

She stands up promptly, and steps away from the bed. "Fine," she says, and storms out before Chandler can say another word. "Okay."

"I'll see you in the morning," Chandler calls out.

"Sure thing," Monica replies sarcastically, not giving him a second glance.

As soon as the door was shut, Chandler groaned.

"Well, I think it's safe to say our friendship is effectively ruined," he muttered, throwing himself back onto his bed.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N** - Woah. Overwhelmed by the feedback, thanks guys! I really appreciate every review; taking time to write something, good _or_ bad, still means something, so thanks!

This chapter actually does not follow up the Chandler-Monica story, but goes along with the Ross-Rachel side. And, we get to see some familiar characters introduced!

BA-DUM, Chapter 4. (I don't know why I wrote, 'ba-dum').

* * *

Carol closed her eyes and groaned in utter frustration. Writing a 'how-to-meet-my-parents' guide for Ross proved more difficult than she thought.

She knew Ross was a wonderful boyfriend and a friendly, smart guy - the perfect boy to bring home to the folks - but her parents were quite picky people and she wasn't sure how accepting they would be over her new boyfriend.

"Hey, Carol," a dark-haired guy nestled close to her on the couch. "What's up?" he grinned as he peered over her shoulder.

"Go away, Joey!" Carol chided, gently shoving him away from her. "I'm working."

"Ah, still working on that piece for the boyfriend, huh?" Joey asked.

Joey Tribbiani was the first guy Carol had met at NYU; she was dragging her luggage into her dorm and he had asked if she needed any help. She complied, only to find him naked in her room moments later - apparently, to Joey, 'help' was considered getting it on with your new classmates.

He was charmingly handsome and had a killer smile, but she had been through her share of men to know that he wasn't the one to stick around. Joey proved to be loyal and affable, though, and she decided that despite their first meeting he was a good guy. He reluctantly accepted her friend-zoning him, but remained friends with her. He still liked to playfully flirt with her, but was completely aware she would never reciprocate and was actually on good terms with Ross.

"Yeah," Carol confirmed.

"Hey, let me know when that doesn't work out," he poked her in the stomach teasingly.

Carol rolled her eyes and elbowed him. "Quit it!"

"C'mon, take a break! You've been sitting here for ages!" Joey cried.

"I'm sorry, this takes effort!"

She was grateful to have such a devoted friend, but she needed space right now.

"Alright, fine, but when you're done I'm taking you to that new Japanese place," Joey said.

Carol sighed and scanned the room.

"There," she pointed to a woman with curly auburn locks cascading along her back, "go hit on her."

"Ooooh, nice one," Joey complimented her find as he shifted his gaze over to the woman immediately. Carol rolled her eyes again. "How do you think she's doin'?"

"Just go!" Carol forcefully pushed him off the couch, eager to get back to work in her own private sanctuary.

/

"Are you done yet?" Joey approached Carol again, who was buried deep within her piles of pages and broken pencils.

"What happened to the pretty girl?" Carol asked, not looking up from her work. "Weren't you busy trying to sleep with her?"

"Apparently, she's a lesbian!" said Joey.

"Really?" Carol looked up to examine the woman again. She looked even more radiant this time around - her long, sweeping hair tumbling all the way down to her hips, long legs, and brilliant green eyes. "Wow."

"I know!" Joey said animatedly, "that's so _hot_!"

"What's her name?" Carol fixated her gaze on the beautiful woman.

"Ah, Sarah. No, no... ah... Sharon. No, that's not it. Uh..."

Carol realized she had been staring at the girl longer than it had taken Joey to recall her name. She quickly returned to her work, slightly blushing from embarrassment.

Joey continued his rambling.

"Maybe it was Sabrina. Or Sally, I think."

"Forget it, Joey."

Joey took his place next to Carol. "Wow," he sighed in complete awe. "I mean, can you imagine her with-"

Carol clenched her teeth. "Joey," she placed a hand on his shoulder and interrupted him, "if you shut up for five minutes, I will go to lunch with you. On me." The thought of that girl with someone else was a needle to her skin, and she didn't want to hear anymore of Joey's fantasy.

Joey sighed. "Okay."

A few minutes later, Carol was scribbling down the last of her notes as Joey tapped her on the shoulder.

"Just one more minute Joe, I swear, I'm almost done!"

"She's coming over here!" he hissed into her ear.

Carol discreetly glanced upwards to see the gorgeous girl heading their way.

"So?"

"Act cool," Joey tried to advise her, but Carol ignored him.

"Hi," the girl said. "Can I have one of those pillows?"

Joey stared at her, open-mouthed, while Carol reached behind her and plucked a plump orange pillow from the sofa. "Here."

"Thanks," the girl gave a bright smile. "I'm Susan."

Carol stuck her hand out in an amiable greeting.

"Carol."

* * *

"What do you usually order here?" Ross toyed with the packaged chopsticks lying next to his fork as his eyes skimmed over the foreign characters on the menu.

"Well, I don't really know," Rachel admitted sheepishly. "Someone usually order for me."

"Oh," Ross nodded, and tried to reread the menu. All the words were in Japanese, with no translation for him to use.

"I do know they serve really great unagi, though!" Rachel advised, tapping her acrylic nails against the wooden surface of the table.

Ross nodded knowingly. "You know, that's not _just_ a eel."

Rachel head cocked like a confused puppy. "What?"

The waiter approached their table before Ross could delve into the double meaning of 'unagi'.

"What would you like to drink?" the waiter asked, deliberately impassive.

"Two waters?" Rachel replied.

She turned to Ross. "Do you want anything else?"

"Nah, I'm good with water," he shrugged.

"Okay, two waters it is," Rachel smiled up cheerfully at the waiter, whose name tag read, 'Tate.'

"Alrightie," he deadpanned, and slowly strolled away.

"I'm glad I ran into you!" Rachel leaned in to talk to Ross. "It's been a long time. How's your girlfriend?"

She had remembered the numerous mentions of Ross's infamous girlfriend during their last Thanksgiving meet-up.

"Great, I'm going to meet her parents this weekend," Ross bragged. "We've been together for quite a while."

"Oh, how exciting!" Rachel clapped her hands together gleefully and squealed. "I wish I could have one of those," she sighed longingly.

"One of what?" Ross's brow furrowed and he leaned in closer.

"You know, just those old-fashioned relationships. You meet in college, you fall in love, you date for years on end, to the point where you're practically married. _That's_ true love," Rachel continued on dreamily, unaware that the waiter had returned.

"Can I take your order, miss?" he asked.

"Oh," Rachel realized she hadn't been paying attention, "you know, we're not ready yet!" she made an apologetic face. "Give us a few more minutes!"

"Okay. I'll be waiting to jump off my seat when you decide," Tate said expressionlessly.

"Thank you," Rachel smiled politely at the waiter - indifferent to his impassive service - then shooed him off.

Ross looked over at Rachel, who was now reading the menu.

"Why don't we just ask that guy what he recommends?" Rachel asked.

"Sure," Ross agreed.

"Ah, excuse me!" Rachel called out, and the waiter slowly approached the table.

"Yes?"

As Rachel listed off a few terms Ross couldn't understand, fidgeted with the extra silverware. He was used to people classifying him and Carol as 'one of those couples.' The couple that falls in love and stays in love and gets married and spends the rest of their life together. Ross always knew he was that type of guy as well - he wanted to find a girl and spend the rest of his life with her. Chandler often made fun of him for it, but that's who he was.

He had usually imagined his life together with Rachel; during his high school career at least. A life in Scarsdale, with a few kids. Now that he had fallen in love with Carol, his future fantasy had shifted slightly, but that projected image of a family together was still set in his mind.

Six months was definitely not serious enough that they needed to start picking out baby names, but Ross knew that he and Carol were pretty much the only ones in their group of friends who were in a committed relationship and not living off one-night stands.

He was glad to know that Rachel was another romantic - that she believed in true love too, and that she adored those kinds of relationships.

"Uh," Rachel glanced at Ross, who was still distracted and lost in his thoughts, as Tate finished detailing a few special delicacies. "We'll just take them all!" she shrugged.

Tate rolled his eyes. "Sure," he said indifferently, and walked away.

Ross smirked at Rachel. "Do you know what you're doing?"

"Ah, whatever!" she waved a careless hand and laughed, "we can take leftovers."

He chuckled; still stuck in his thoughts, though, he decided to divert the topic.

"So, how's... Barry?" he deliberately used the wrong name.

"He's great!" Rachel said. "He's studying to be an orthopedist, or something," she expanded.

"Oh, that's cool," Ross complimented, though that sounded kind of weird. Rachel was never into the nerdy type (hence, why she never showed any interest in him), so why start now?

"My dad set us up," she explained. "He's, like, an old family friend, or something."

Ross nodded in understanding - he knew how his mother frequently tried to set up Monica with boys she knew.

"Yeah, I hope he's the guy for me," Rachel smiled, and her hands made her way over to Ross's across the table.

"Just like you and Carol."

* * *

"I'm telling you, the full gallon!" Joey insisted.

"No way, Joey, that's physically impossible," Carol tried to explain to him. There was no way someone could drink a whole gallon of milk in ten seconds, without dumping half of it on himself.

"I agree," Susan added her two cents.

Instead of just borrowing the pillow and leaving, like she had planned on doing, Susan had spent the past hour talking to Carol and Joey. Well, actually, she talked with Carol, Joey just gazed and her and tried not to drool, off the side.

They had really hit it off, the two of them. Carol, she discovered right off the bat, was a good-natured girl with a gregarious personality. Susan normally went for brunettes, but truly admired Carol's long blonde hair, as well as her glowing brown eyes and the cute way she bit her lip.

Finally, Joey invited her to lunch at his favorite Japanese place with them, proclaiming he was starving because he hadn't eaten in two hours.

Carol smiled graciously at her new friend, who returned with an equally convivial grin. "Thank you!"

She turned to Joey. "See? A voice of reason!"

"Whatever," Joey said grumpily. "I"ll prove it to you after lunch," he promised, pushing the door open.

"Welcome, how many?" a greeter asked them at the door.

"You can't count?" Joey asked bluntly. He didn't care how he came off at the moment, he just wanted to eat.

Carol bit her lip, and stared at the ground shamefaced. She knew Joey became a bit of a prick when he was hungry.

"Excuse me?" the greeter asked, an icy glare cast upon Joey.

"Three, please," Susan intervened.

The greeter broke her glare at an unabashed Joey, and led them to a clean, open table.

Joey observed the tables all around him, spying for a pretty, single girl who he maybe could use his infamous, classic New York pick-up line, "How you doin'?" on.

His eyes settled on a girl with shoulder length hair and chocolate eyes; wait, no, she probably wasn't single, she was holding hands with... wasn't that Ross?

"Is that Ross?" Joey wondered aloud, not meaning for Carol to hear.

Carol turned her head to stare at the pair. In an instant, her eyes flashed angrily.

"Who is that?" she demanded quietly to Joey, who shrugged. She had just confronted Chandler a week ago, and he had told her there was nothing to worry about. Maybe that was true, but she was going to find out herself.

"I don't know, but she is _hot_!" he exclaimed.

Carol didn't even have time to spare him a glare. She strolled over to the table, and the couple looked up, surprised.

"Hey, Carol!" Ross stood up to kiss his girlfriend, who backed away, displeased.

Carol didn't want to lose her cool, especially not in public, in front of Susan, Joey, and a bunch of other strangers, but she was a little pissed. She had spent half of the day preparing for Ross's meeting with her parents, and he was having lunch with another girl? She didn't want to immediately jump to cheating, but she had never seen this girl before and Ross _was_ holding hands with her.

She took a few deep breaths, and tried to keep from raising her voice.

"Who is this?" she asked coolly. Rachel brushed a strand of cinnamon hair out of her eyes as she stared up at the unfriendly blonde and smiled timidly.

Ross frowned at the unfamiliar tone. He wasn't doing anything wrong, he reasoned. He wasn't cheating, this was catching up with an old friend!

"Oh," Ross was glad to introduce the pair and get the air cleared up, "Carol, this is Rachel Green. Rachel, this is my girlfriend, Carol Willick."

And then, Carol lost it.

* * *

**A/N -** poor Rach. What'd you think of Joey? Of Susan?


End file.
